Out Of My Control
by gemxk2
Summary: After he watches her sail away with de Chagny, the Phantom is caught unawares by little Meg Giry, and things spiral downwards from there...based on the movie
1. Chapter 1

(A/N, Just a little idea I had for a story. May be a bit crap, as have never written a Phantom Of The Opera story before. Please R&R and let me know what you think!)

He watched as she left his sight forever. Christine Daae and her pathetic excuse for a lover Raoul de Chagny, in the tiny boat that he himself had used more than once. Tears streaming down his face, he turned away from them, not wanting to see the woman he loved in the arms of another man.

_What did you expect her to do, you fool?_

Angrily, he glared at his own reflection in the mirror. _You're nothing more than a monster. And Monsters do NOT have wives, or lovers, or friends…you know this already. And STILL, you must persist telling yourself that you are normal. You are not. You never will be!_

Consumed with the rage he felt at the injustice of it all, he clenched his fist and smashed the glass before him, barely noticing the small shards of glass slice his fingers to ribbons. He turned wildly, and snatched up the nearest object he could find, (a golden ornate candlestick in this instance) and began smashing the surrounding mirrors, hiding his own reflection, trying to banish it from his memory.

He reached the final mirror, and gazed at his reflection one last time. If not for the white mask that his half of his face, he would have been attractive. Furious, he wrenched his white mask from his face and glared at the disfigured skin beneath it. With a cry, he smashed the final mirror and gazed into the darkness that lead to the dungeons below.

With a heavy sadness in his heart, he turned, and caught a fleeting glimpse of _his _Christine before she was lost to him forever. He thought he saw her look back, but the dark abyss of the night shrouded her from his view and she did not break free. _She was gone, forever._

Swirling back around, he heard a stampede of people coming ever closer. He looked in their general direction, and was surprised to see an angelic looking girl standing on the far side of the cave, looking at him in amazement.

"You are real…" She whispered, putting a pale slender hand to her throat.

The Phantom quickly snatched his mask, and re-placed it over the offending disfigurement. He recognized the girl as Meg Giry, Madam Giry's only child. He knew all of the dancers by sight, and Meg, he knew to be one of the most exceptional. She had briefly caught his eye before Christine came along.

"LEAVE!" He shouted across the cavern to her. She jumped at the ferocity in his tone, but seemed unable to leave. She looked at him in wonder, as though some invisible force was holding her in place.

He gave a snort of contempt, and listened at the crowd of people grew ever closer. He made to leave down the dark passageway, but he stopped himself. _Meg Giry wont leave, she could expose you…_

The thought stuck in his mind. What if the little Giry did expose him? No, she could never betray her precious mother like that, could she? He couldn't afford to take that chance. In a flash, he turned around and waded across the filthy river until he stood infront of her.

Her blue eyes flashed with fear, and mentally he cursed her for weakening him. He hated it when people looked at him in fear. Was it his fault he was cursed? 

A crash sounded above them, and little Meg fell forward into the Opera Ghost's arms. He felt a moment of confusion as the little dancer pressed her face into the security of his shirt. Without thinking, he scooped the ballerina into his strong arms and waded back across the filthy water and twisted his body as he ran into the mirror passageway, so not to hurt her.

The Phantom stopped some way down and looked back. Meg Giry peered over his shoulders and gave a small cry. The fire that had savaged the Opera Populaire had slowly made its way down through the floors, and was now spreading quickly through the passage, catching everything alight as it chased the two, fleeing in its wake.

The phantom set Meg down on to her feet. "You wish to live?" He barked at the terrified girl sharply. Meg nodded, shaking her angelic blonde locks out of her face. The Phantom snatched at her hand, seeing the younger girl wince in pain.

"Then run for your life, and do not let go of my hand. Understand me?" He spoke more harshly than he would have normally. Desperate times called for desperate measures. He was still stinging from the loss of Christine Daae, and he rather loathed the face that he would have to leave the place he had called home for so many years.

Pulling he frail dancer along, he sped through the passageway, dragging the girl behind him. Flames licked at their heels, and he pulled the woman out of harms way on more than one occasion.

His mind worked frantically, thinking on how best to fix this damned situation. The loss of Christine burned like a white-hot knife in his heart, and he dragged Meg up after she had fallen to her knees. Thick black smoke surrounded their every move, and it was becoming increasingly difficult to breathe.

Perhaps this was one Finale that the Opera Ghost would forfeit.


	2. Trust me, Little Meg

-- thank you so much for my wonderful reviews, and I'm sorry for not updating for so long! I moved house and then broke my PC (gah!) but it works now and I have a lot of storylines planned out! Now to make them realistic, so on with the story! However I do need a Beta Reader, so anyone up to the job please let me know in the reviews -- 

Or perhaps not. Maybe, there was a way, but no, it was too risky. If he should let go of the little Giry's hand….Antoinette would never forgive him, and she was the only one who cared for him at all. She had saved him from the circus as a child and as a result of which had saved him from the hangman's rope. He could not let her only daughter slip into purgatory now.

Making a snap decision, he stopped to a halt and the little ballerina Meg slammed into him, almost knocking him off his feet completely. He turned, only to find the thick smoke so dense that to glare at the poor child would have been pointless. He could only see the outline of the girl anyway, so why waste valuable time?

Meg, however, couldn't see the reason as to why the phantom had stopped dragging her along. She knew that the fire that had by now savaged the Opera Populaire was not far behind them at all, and she could see no sense in stopping here and letting death claim them for his own.

"Please, why have we stopped?" She choked out, the smoke making her throat hurt, and she coughed and spluttered to try to clear her airways. The air seemed to get thicker the longer she stood in one place. Her head became dizzy and she blinked rapidly to try to stop her eyes from stinging with the atmosphere around her.

When after a few seconds the phantom did not answer her Meg became agitated.

"Please, sir, why have we stopped? Don't you know that the fire could kill us if we stay here? Or that if the mob have followed us then they could kill _you?_ Please, we have to keep going, come, this way!"

Meg tried to yank his hand towards her, thus pulling his body away from the ever gaining fire, but to no avail. The Opera Ghost it seemed had had his fill of hiding from the mobs that threatened to kill him on sight. No more would he be that little boy with the bag over his head for fear the atrocity of his face, should the genteel ladies fait with horror. Enough. The mask was over. His first unfeeling scrap of clothing, a gift from his mother, who in turn had become so repulsed by her sons face that she had abandoned him to a circus, probably never dreaming that her son would one day become the feared Opera Ghost, a man of genius, and malice, with a hatred so deep that none could overcome.

_Except Christine Daae._

Finally, he pulled little meg back to him, and held her tightly, as he would have held Christine, as a man holds his lover. She struggled, and opened her mouth to scream.

At that exact moment, the smoke around his face cleared and Meg was stunned into silence. The partially handsome face of the Phantom was stained with tears that ran unabashed down his face. The look of sadness on his face stopped her struggling, and she relaxed him his arms. His eyes met hers for a moment, and she held his gaze, unwavering and strong.

She gave a weak smile in his direction as the smoke obscured him once more.

He clenched her even tighter to him, and she did not struggle.

The Opera Ghost took a deep breath in before speaking close to Meg's ear. "Little Giry, you must take a deep breath now and hold the air inside of you." His voice sounded to calm in the commotion that raged all around them, but Meg was afraid.

"I don't like it…" She whispered back, clutching at the lapel of his now filthy and torn white shirt.

"Trust in me, Little Meg. I shall keep you safe, but you must trust me" He sounded so convincing, and it was then that Meg realised she had no choice at all.

She could leave him now and try to fight her way through the flames, but to what use? The flames would beat her back, and she would probably collapse from a rough combination of heat and exhaustion.

Or, she could stay with him and hope for the best. He wasn't likely to let himself be killed was he? Or did the betrayal of Christine burn so deeply in his heart that he had nothing left to live for anymore? She sincerely hoped that it wasn't the latter.

She leaned even closer to him and took a deep breath. The phantom smiled, a genuine sincere smile, and held her to him, before reaching a hand to the side of him, and flicking a lever that was otherwise undetected to human eyes.

The ground underneath their feet suddenly was not there anymore and It took all of Meg's self control not to scream her head off as she fell god only knew how deep into the abyss below. She took another deep breath when she heard the Ghost do she same thing, and almost cried with relief when her feet hit the icy cold water below her.

Beneath the murky waters of the Parisian sewers, Meg Giry fought to the surface with all her might. The pressure of hitting the water at such a speed had knocked her from the Opera Ghost's embrace, and it took all of her might to kick to the surface, which eventually, she managed. She broke the surface, and gasped for clean air, treading water in her ballerina's tutu, breathing deep breaths of air she thought she would never live to inhale.

Turning around in the water to see the Phantom, she was surprised to find him gone, as though he had never just saved her life. She swam over to a brick ledge adjacent to tunnels she saw shortly before hitting the water.

The ledges were slippery and the muscles in her arms and legs were lethargic. She scrambled to fight her way out of the water, which was barely above freezing. She made it almost to the top, and slipped back down again, the moss and mould growing along the sides of the bricks where the water didn't quite reach slipping through her fingers like grass on a summer's morning.

Meg gave a squeal of shock and frustration before her head hit the water and the icy water shrouded her body once more. She gave a few seconds before fighting her way to the surface and trying again. She got to the same point before she fell down half way to the water, before a pair of strong arms lifted her under her arms and hauled her to the top.

Meg had never been so glad to see anyone in all of her life. The Opera Ghost lay flat on his back, clutching his shirt, which was stained red with blood.

"No!" Meg screamed as his eyes rolled back into his head, after saving her life for the second time. She scrambled to her knees and lifted his head gently onto her lap, and pushed the hair out of his disfigured face. She leaned down and kissed his forehead gently, bringing a look of shocked surprise to the Phantom's eyes.

He knew no more after that.


	3. Another Problem

K2hotmail.cI love all of you wonderful people! Thank you all so much for the encouraging comments that have given me even more ideas for this. I still need a Beta Reader, so please, anyone willing to volunteer, please let me know. Lady Vladislaus xxx

Meg Giry kissed the top of the Phantom's disfigured face and held his body to hers closely, sharing her body warmth with the Ghost that had terrorized the Opera Populaire for at least 10 years. She studied his unconscious face carefully.

If it wasn't for the…she didn't quite know what to call it. It looked like a burn, but the skin wasn't rough, like a burn was. It was silky smooth, just red and angry looking. She stroked it gently, not wanting to cause him any further pain.

He would have been quite handsome if it wasn't for his face. He had a well-proportioned frame. Thick strong shoulders that indicated he was an active man, a flat stomach, and clearly defined leg muscles. Meg brushed a strand out of his face, and instantly covered his upper body with her own, as a sudden sort of explosion shook the entire sewer. Small shards of the ceiling fell from the roof and hit Meg squarely in the back. She stifled a scream as one of the sharper pieces embedded itself in her back. She felt something slither across her back, but she didn't dare look. She swallowed deeply and glanced backwards, her eyes connecting with the small drops of blood that was rapidly becoming a puddle on the floor.

She became nauseas, and her head fell down on to the Phantom's chest. She gasped for air, and she felt an additional explosion rock the sewer once more. Bigger bricks fell from the ceiling, and she felt the Phantom move. Shielding his head and chest with her own weakened body, she found his hand within hers and clenched it tightly, crying as more and more bricks hit the small of her back.

The Phantom on the other hand was trying his very best to change positions with Meg. He had no idea why she was protecting him from the rocks, but he did not **_care_**. She was the first person to protect him in his entire life, and without reason he just didn't want nothing to happen to her. Meg screamed in pain above him, and he flipped her out of the way, as he saw half of the ceiling collapse above her. She winced and gasped in shock as she saw the ceiling falling towards her. The Phantom rolled them both out of the way and saved them both from being crushed by the weight of the rocks.

Meg's eyes became dim and bleary once more. She felt the pressure of the phantom shielding her from the onslaught that raged above. But she was not afraid. She felt a cloying sweetness, almost like an unbearable lightness of being. She closed her eyes and fell forward, the Phantom catching her head before it hit the ground. Little Meg knew no more after that.

_(((This is the Phantom having an internal battle with the voice in his head. The "Voice" is in italics, the actual Phantom reasoning is in Bold)))_

_Brilliant. Just bloody perfect! Not only have you got to save yourself from this horrific mess, Erik, You HAVE TO SAVE HER AS WELL! You bloody idiot. Now what are you going to do? Leave her here, no one need ever know…_

**I can't. **

_You Can. You must. How can you save yourself if you are carrying a ballerina over your shoulders? _

**I cant just leave her here. That would be murder.**

_When did that ever stop you before?_

**I don't want to be like that anymore. I can change. Get out of my head. Leave me alone!**

_Awwww, poor little Erik-the-Phantom, attached to a little ballerina, in the form of Little Meg Giry. Antoinette's daughter. Moreover, you like her don't you._

**I don't want her to die. **

_YOU DO! You like the Prima Ballerina, oh this is just priceless! You like her! And even so short a time after Christine Daae! Hah!_

**No! You don't know me anymore. Im not like that! I have changed! Leave me ALONE!**

It was at that precise moment that another part of the ceiling collapsed and landed into the murky waters that surrounded them. Meg stirred as the water sloshed over the sides of the tunnel and headed towards them.

**No, don't, please, allow her this chance at life! Don't be so cruel as to let her live this long and then take her life away!**

But his silent plea was heard by no one. He watched in frozen terror as the water rose higher and higher over the bulkheads, then with a deafening splash, raced towards the frozen bodies of Meg and the Phantom.

At that moment, the Phantom had a sort of epiphany. His purpose became shockingly clear to him. He had to save Meg, regardless of his own fate. He could not, and would not, leave her to die alone in this god awful place. He looked at the water once more racing towards him, and as though in slow-motion, he scooped the Prima Ballerina into his arms, and ran for it.

His arms and legs were screaming with the effort, and splashes of water licked at his heels, but her kept going. Up ahead, he knew, there was a small tunnel that led further underneath the city of Paris. It was a long shot, but if he could make it through there, perhaps he would stand a chance of getting the Little Giry a physician to check her over and make her strong once more.

It was there, he could see the turn-off! Now all he had to do was to reach it…

He threw his body forward with all the speed he could muster. He barely managed to get to the alcove in the wall before he collapsed himself on to the floor. The wound in his chest was killing him: he had fallen onto an exposed spike in the water and sliced his stomach open. He had had enough practice to realise that it was merely skin deep, and would cause him no long-term damage.

Ignoring the searing pain in his limbs, he checked on his unconscious captive. She was showing signs of waking. He had better make her comfortable before she did so.

Wincing, he dragged himself and Meg to her feet, and half carried her and half dragged her further down the tunnel. He had another smaller lair a bit further down. He could settle them both there.


	4. Safe Haven Mothers Love

Hello to all those who have waited so long for this update. I hope it's worth the wait! To Wandering Child 24, a Beta Reader is someone who basically just checks out your chapters before you post them and gives the author some help and ideas! If your interested, give me a shout!

A rest, at last. The Ghost of the Opera felt his body falling down into the blackness as he reached his sanctuary. Meg was out of it completely, and as he half dragged her prone form over towards his sleeping area, he wondered why the Little Ballet Dancer had shielded his injured body with her own.

He felt the dried blood on her back and sighed aloud. Almost there. His arms screamed with effort and he lifted Meg bodily into the air, his slashed stomach in utter agony as he did so. While he laid her gently onto the small divan bed that occupied the least damp part of the small cave, his vision swam in front of his eyes and he blinked rapidly trying to clear his eyes. After a moment, the dizziness passed and he staggered away as quietly as possible, so not to wake the sleeping dancer.

He laid Meg as comfortably as he could before turning and staggering over to the dying embers in the small fireplace that he had lit earlier, originally intended to heat the cave for Christine Daae. Now, however, the bed intended for the woman who has rejected him for the petty little fop Raoul de Chagny, that irritating little _Vicomte_ who had stolen the one woman who gave his life purpose. But no more. She was gone.

Holding his stomach with both hands as a wave of pain passed through his body, the Phantom made his way to the water edge of his smaller cave. Not even Antoinette Giry knew of this cave. She had often visited him in the larger one in the pits of the Opera, bringing him food and news of the Opera goings on. He watched daily of course, but many people were missing during the day and Antoinette told him of the goings on that happened behind the scenes, so to speak.

And now he watched over Antoinette's only daughter in her absence. And what a failure he was proving at that. His stomach aching, he scrambled, half unconscious, down to the bottom of the cave, stopping to take a short gasp of air into his lungs.

Wincing, he sat down slowly, trying to prolong his consciousness before he passed out completely. He laid himself on to the ground, removing his hand from the bleeding wound on his abdomen and raising his head to look. Just as he expected: a relatively large, but superficial wound. It would become infected though if he did not attend to it accordingly.

Wincing, he closed his eyes and gripped the two sides of his wound and squeezed, biting his lips together to stop the scream of tortured agony from leaving them. Again, and again, he repeated his ministration, cleansing his wound of all possible infection, until only the blood seeped out. A wave of lightness hit him and he slept once more.

High above her, Meg Giry's mother Antoinette argued viciously with an armed police officer. She glared at him balefully, tempted to slap his face for him for his lack of respect of the situation. Her precious daughter, Little Meg, was missing from the Opera Ballet Rat's as they were playfully called, and Antoinette was beside herself, with shock and fear. What if the Phantom had her? What if she had befallen the same fate as that of Joseph Buquet? The Punjab lasso had been used many a time in the phantoms Opera. She herself had been present when it had been used. And now, her only daughter, Meg, was lost to her forever. And the infernal man in front of her simply did not seem to grasp the seriousness of her predicament.

"Please, Madam, you can not go in there! The Opera Ghost is still at large in there! We are still searching for the Vicomte de Chagny, then we will search for your sister!"

"My Daughter" Madam Giry's voice dripped with anger and her eyes were laced with a fury she would not have thought possible for her.

"Excuses-moi, madam, I must go," The police officer turned on his heels and ran in the opposite direction and it wasn't until he turned and looked at her sympathetically did she understand the young mans hurry to leave her.

Her face was dripping with tears.


End file.
